Ryder
by Jackson's-Stonewall-Brigade
Summary: An important figure in Mr. Favor's past comes back to haunt him. A heart-warming, tragic, and somewhat funny story I found buried on one of my old computers. After a few years I'm still in love with it, which is rare. Complete


"You can't go like this, Ma!" he choked out, holding onto his mother's frail hand. A year of slowly starving to death was no way for a beautiful woman to go.

"Uhhnn…" was all she could say in response to her pleading son before her hand fell limp. He stiffened and carefully let go of her hand.

"Ma…" he trailed off, frozen with shock.

The doctor standing behind him sighed loudly. "Would you like to be alone with her?" he asked, squeezing the boy's shoulder in sympathy.

The boy stood up, not really a boy, but a young man. He straightened out his broad shoulders and placed his Stetson back on his head before shaking it.

"No," he replied coldly, "I can't stay here any longer."

With that, he turned towards the door and started to walk out.

The doctor nodded. "Fine," he murmured. Louder he said, "Where would you like-?"

The boy clenched his jaw shut in anger.

"I'll decide later, Doctor. I have work to do. Right now, I think your job here is done." he said in a harsh tone. The doctor took this as an incentive to leave and grabbed his bag up off the dusty wooden floor. Before exiting the shack, he turned towards the boy.

"Do you have any relatives waiting for you?" he questioned.

The boy continued to stare at the floor, brow furrowed. He looked up suddenly and snapped, "No."

"It's a harsh world out there; not a good place for a boy your age to be. Especially alone."

The boy cringed.

"You sayin' I can't support myself? Let's get one thing straight: I was the one who broke my back every day making money to support Ma and me. I cooked, I cleaned, and I fixed up this godforsaken piece of property, only to have the bank take it away from me. Now, if you're tell'n me I can't go on without an adult breathin' down my neck, you got another thing comin'!"

The doctor stood quiet and still as the boy finished.

"I'll be seeing you," he muttered before walking out to his buggy. The boy stared after him, face pinched in pain and anger.

oooooOOOOOOOooooo

The boy slammed the spade into the ground, took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. Sighing, he picked the shovel back up and pounded the makeshift cross into the ground. The sun started to set in the horizon, and he squinted against it, throwing his shovel aside.

He gave the grave one last look before walking out from underneath the shade of the tree his mother was buried beneath. Picking up the reins to his horse, he mounted it and started to trot down the hill. He stopped when he saw two figures on horses riding quickly towards him. He dismounted and led his horse to them.

"Kenny," the sheriff greeted tersely.

"What do you want? Not that I don't know; I just want to hear you say it. I want to hear you say it and live with yourselves afterwards." Kenny said curtly.

The sheriff huffed and cast a glance over at the rider who was mounted next to him. The rider was dressed quite fancily, and his black steed quite shiny.

"I'm taking the ranch away from you, Ryder," the man declared.

Kenny snorted. "Go ahead," he barked, "I have nothing left there anyway."

"You don't understand," the man on the black horse started, "The ranch isn't worth more than a hundred and fifty dollars."

"Then what?" Kenny retorted.

"You owe the bank money," the sheriff replied, "Mr. Kandid here came to collect,"

Kenny's eyes widened for a nanosecond; he didn't have any money whatsoever.

He glanced back up at the hill, and then looked back at the sheriff and Mr. Kandid.

The sheriff frowned and jerked his chin up towards the mound of dirt up on the hill.

"Somebody die?" he asked. Kenny screwed his nose up at the insensitive fools; they knew exactly who had died, but he answered the sheriff anyway.

"My Ma," he growled.

Mr. Kandid grunted to break the silence.

"Pay up, Ryder. The bank needs the money back, desperately."

Kenny pursed his lips nervously. Thinking quickly, he yanked his gun out of its holster and pointed it at the sheriff.

"Try anything and I'll blow his head off!" he shouted. Mr. Kandid pulled out his gun and fired at Kenny, shooting his hat off. Kenny shot the sheriff in the chest and then took out Mr. Kandid, making him fall off of his shiny steed.

Kenny blew the gun smoke out of the air and replaced the gun in his holster, spurs clinking as he slowly walked over to the body of Mr. Kandid.

"I told ya I'd kill him," he muttered to the dead banker, before turning around and walking back over to his horse. He picked his Stetson up off the ground on the way and put it back on his head, dismissing the bullet hole in the top of the hat.

ooooooOOOOOOOoooooo

That night, Kenny dug through his mother's things that he had taken with him. A blanket, a pillow and a cluster of opened letters tied together with twine.

Kenny had spread out the blanket beneath him and was resting back on the pillow, reading the letters by the firelight. His horse softly neighed behind him and shook its head. The fire crackled loudly and sent sparks up into the night sky, but neither sound tore the boy from the letters.

Each letter was from a man by the name of Jeb Hawkins. He must've known Kenny's mother fairly well, because he was friendly and casual in the letters and called her "Anne".

To everybody else, she was always Ms. Ryder. Kenny had never known his father and was always given funny looks when people called his mother "Ms. Ryder".

His mother knew who Kenny's father was, but always refused to tell him. Now looking through the letters, Kenny felt close to finding out. He often felt angry that his father had left him and his mother alone. What kind of a snake would do that?

He clamped his jaw tightly and flicked open another letter.

Jeb Hawkins, once again. Was this man his father? Why would he write his mother so much if he hadn't known her to some extent? The next letter shocked him.

Anne,

How are you faring out in the city? It's probably not right to ask that, because I know what the answer will always be despite the circumstances. I wish you would come back out to Texas and visit. It would make me happy, and I know it would make Gil happy too. He hasn't seen you in so long and talks about you for hours on end. If you don't have the proper funds to pay the stage to take you all the way out here, perhaps you'd allow me to send you a sum of money to help you on your journey out here? I know it'll be hard with a child on your hands, but once again, it would make me so happy. Gil would like to know how you are doing. It doesn't seem right that only I know where you are and how you are doing. Don't you think Gil deserves to know too? If you won't let me tell him he has a son, could you at least let me tell him that you're doing alright? Anything to make him stop worrying and maybe to shut him up. Please come and visit, you can't stay in the city. I know that your father has disowned you and wants you as far away from him as possible, and what better place to get away from him than coming out to Texas? California is no place for a woman like you.

Sincerely,

Jeb

Kenny stared at the letter for the longest time. His mother's father had disowned her? Why? Let Gil know he had a son? Come out to Texas from California? Kenny tried to put the pieces together and find a logical explanation to the letter.

He took out the next letter and read it. It came almost eight years after the last one.

Why would that be? The war, maybe? He read it anyway.

Anne,

Well, I made it. I survived. After everything settled down, you came to my mind. I don't exactly know why. I wish you would've taken me up on my offer all those years ago. All you told me was that you just couldn't do it, but why not? I miss you so much and wish you were here. If you were to come out again, you'd have to keep away from Gil. He and Mrs. Favor already have a daughter and another one on the way. You blew your chance to return to him, and now you can't. He's talking about taking up cattle driving, but I don't think he's serious. He says that if he is, he'll hire me on. We've all moved on since you left. I'm sorry I waited so long to write you, but to tell you the truth, I didn't have time. I've been busy and now have a farm of my own. And you said I'd never do it. Well, you were wrong. By the way, how is your son? I bet he's bigger than a yearling by now.

Love,

Jeb

Kenny crumpled the letter and tossed it aside, refraining from throwing it in the fire to destroy it. He couldn't believe it. This Gil Favor was his father and Jeb-whats-his-face had known the whole time! He felt betrayed and insignificant. Now his father was married to another woman and was doing just fine. Why hadn't his mother gone out to Texas? Hawkins had even offered to pay for the trip, and she blew it! Maybe if things had been different, maybe if his mother had been wiser, his life would've been a little bit more normal. He felt rage and hurt burning up inside of him. He didn't know why, but he felt anger towards Hawkins and Favor. He didn't even know who they were really, and what they looked like, but all he knew, is that he hated them. Especially his father. He tried to cool off and convince himself that Favor had no idea he had son and that it was his mother's fault for leaving him. If she would've married the man, maybe her father wouldn't have disowned her. It would explain why they had always lived in poverty. After Kenny's grandfather had died, all the money in his will had gone to his sons. His mother had been a fool, had had her own rich father disown her, and had been poor because of the decisions she had made. Kenny stood up and kicked the metal coffee pot. He picked up all the letters and threw them in the fire, shouting angrily.

He cursed a blue streak and swore he would kill Hawkins and Favor. He would kill the lying, deceitful Hawkins and his stud-for-a-father, Favor. He'd take what money they'd have, he'd tear them apart; he'd get revenge for what a rotten start in life he'd had. He was a killer, probably had his face slapped onto wanted posters all over the state, and had to get his revenge before the law caught up to him. But how?

Kenny suddenly widened his eyes and ran towards the fire, trying desperately to fish out the letters. He cursed as he burned himself and put his finger in his mouth. He held up one burning letter, just long enough to read the address.

He dropped the letter on the ground and let it burn before packing up his bedroll and mounting his horse. He had to get an early start if he was to catch Hawkins and Favor.

oooooOOOOOOOOoooo

"Glad to have you back, Quince," Mr. Favor said with a nod, shaking Jim Quince's hand as the drover tipped his hat to him.

"Glad to be back," he replied cheerily.

Rowdy sat on his horse, resting his palms on the horn of the saddle and squinting against the afternoon sun.

"What'cha think, Boss?" he asked.

Mr. Favor walked up beside his ramrod's mount and pushed his hat upwards.

"I think we have plenty of drovers," he said with certainty.

Rowdy gestured his head towards a lone cowboy who had rode in. "He's a bit late, in't he?" he asked with a chuckle. Mr. Favor turned and shrugged.

"We'll see," he replied.

The cowboy rode up to the boss and ramrod and dismounted. He took his hat off and sighed.

"Name's Kenny Ryder. I uh, got word that you was hiring on skilled men for your drive?" he inquired.

"Yup," Mr. Favor said flatly.

Rowdy snorted and sat up straight. "We're already full up-"

Mr. Favor put his hand up in silence and Rowdy shut his mouth.

Rowdy sulked and looked down at the tall young cowboy. He had broad shoulders and muscular arms. His eyes were ice-blue and his hair was as black as a raven's feathers. He had a hardened face for his youth, but looked like he meant business.

"I worked on a cattle ranch for a long time, and I can rope and cut as easy as breathin'. I could also track a squirrel through a rainstorm, in case you was wonderin'."

Mr. Favor looked amused and stood akimbo.

"Well," he started, "You can certainly talk the talk, but can you walk the walk?"

Rowdy shook his head no, but the boss dismissed him.

"Do cows have horns?" Ryder asked, sporting a crooked grin. Rowdy gave him a disdainful look.

"Some do, some don't it really depends on the kind you're-"

Mr. Favor shut the ramrod up with an annoyed look. Rowdy slumped his shoulders and gave Ryder a look of disgust.

"Well, an extra man's fine," Mr. Favor said leniently, "But, the best will come forward, and the losers will be left behind, just so ya know. I need able-bodied men, and if you can't handle this drive, you'll be kicked out of here like an obnoxious fly."

"Yeah," Rowdy said in agreement.

"Would you shut up?" Mr. Favor snapped, turning to Rowdy and giving him a deadly look. Rowdy looked indifferent and just looked away, muttering something entirely inaudible.

"Welcome aboard," Mr. Favor said, putting his hand out to shake. Kenny shook his new boss' hand.

So, this was his father; seemed innocent enough. He'd have to gain his trust and then get him alone, then….splat. Kenny grinned, lost in his sinister thoughts.

ooooOOOOOOooooo

"Yeah, she's pretty, I guess," Gil agreed reluctantly, taking the harness of his horse. Jeb huffed and stabbed his pitchfork into the pile of hay.

"You guess?" he echoed incredulously, "She's a goddess!"

Gil shrugged, "I don't know anything about that," he admitted, not really feeling like talking about the boss' daughter.

Jeb rolled his eyes. "I've seen her looking at you!" he continued, "You should try talking to her sometime!"

Gil looked away shyly. "Oh, come on," he laughed, "She doesn't like me!"

Jeb huffed. "You're so modest," he argued. Gil gave his best friend an apologetic look.

"Well," Jeb started, "I better go check on the workers. They cain't do nothing' without me whippin' 'em into action. Lazy ni-"

Gil grabbed Jeb's shoulder.

"Jeb," he said quietly, "Could you not whip them, please? I don't like it. Especially not when you do it to the children. I can't stand it when they get all bloody and hurtin'."

Jeb stood akimbo. "I should whip you!" he retorted, "If they're gonna be lazy, they're gonna pay!

Gil furrowed his brow. "We're friends, Jeb," he murmured, "I want you to treat those slaves the same way you'd treat me. I'm asking you politely."

Jeb cringed. "Fine," he spat, "But Mr. Ryder don't like it when I'm lenient towards them. If he catches me reasoning with them, I'll be fired for sure!"

Gil grinned. "Thanks Jeb. You're a real man."

Jeb shook his head, "Someone stole your rudder, Gil," he mumbled as he walked away, leaving his whip in the barn.

Gil stood there, relieved that he wouldn't have to hear the shouts and yelps of pain echoing from the fields today.

A soft voice roused him from his thoughts.

"Mr. Favor?"

Gil turned around and almost panicked when he saw the boss' daughter, Anne, peeking around the corner of one of the horse stalls.

"Ms. Ryder," he said, nodding his head politely, although his heart was racing. He was scared to death that Mr. Ryder would catch him talking to her.

"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation," Anne noted.

Gil stared at her as she came forward from the shadows. Jeb was right; she was pretty. He then came back to reality and swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Ryder," he apologized hastily, "I can tell Jeb to-"

Anne walked forward and put her hands up. "Oh, no! I was going to tell you that I'm grateful you told Mr. Hawkins what you did," she explained. Gil cocked an eyebrow.

"Ya are?"

"Yes," Anne said, standing up straight and smiling.

Gil smiled back; he couldn't help it.

"I don't like it when my father has Mr. Hawkins beat the workers. It makes me ill," she said, cringing. "Yes, Ms. Ryder," Gil acknowledged.

Anne grinned.

"Stop calling me that. Call me Anne. I like it better," she said.

"Anne," Gil said hesitantly. His heart was still racing, but started to slow when she became friendlier.

"In that case, you wouldn't mind calling me Gil, would you?" he asked, trying not to be impish.

Anne raised her eyebrows. "Oh, I couldn't do that," she gasped.

"Why not?" Gil questioned with a shrug, "Just as long as your Pa doesn't catch you doin' it, I don't see the harm in it."

Anne paused and thought for a moment, mulling over what he said.

"Alright then," she relented, "Would you like to come in the house for some lemonade…Gil?"

The young man gave her a surprised look.

"I couldn't," he argued. "Sure you can!" Anne said, now taking the lead, "Mother is always saying that we should treat people nice, and I don't think that excludes you, so come on up to the house!"

Gil sighed and then gave in.

"Alright," he replied, following her; she wasn't so bad after all.

oooooOOOOOOooooo

Pete Nolan rode into camp and dismounted, looking around for Mr. Favor.

"Mister Favor!" he called.

The trail boss stood up from eating with the rest of the drovers and greeted his scout.

"How's it look, Pete?" he asked.

"Looks good, next fifteen miles. Good grazin', plenty a water. We shouldn't have any trouble with getting the herd through. Just flat land mosta the way," Pete replied, glancing over at Rowdy, who was eating alone, muttering something to himself.

"I better get eatin'," Pete said, nodding to his boss before going to grab some chow from Wishbone. He then sat down next to Rowdy.

"What's ailin' you?" he asked.

Rowdy paused and looked over at Kenny. "It's Ryder," he retorted, "He's such a kiss up!"

Pete frowned and chuckled.

"Kiss up?" he echoed, "I dunno about that, but he's pretty agreeable."

Rowdy whipped around to face the scout.

"That's the problem! He agrees with the Boss on everythin'. He acts just like 'im too! Big boot-licker!"

Pete laughed. "Well, he certainly knows what he's talkin' 'bout," he said. He then paused for a moment and frowned.

"Ya know I keep confusing him with the Boss. They look a lot alike," he noted. Rowdy narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah, they sure do," he agreed. He then looked over at the Boss and then back at Ryder. "It's kinda a striking resemblance, really," Rowdy murmured.

Pete took another bite of his food and a sly smile spilled over his face.

"Doppelganger, maybe?" he suggested. Rowdy grinned. "Naw. There's no such thing as doppelgangers."

Quince heard that as he was walking by and stopped.

"No such thing as doppelgangers? I don't think so. I met someone who looked exactly like my father. I swear they musta been twins!"

"They were, Jim," Scarlet pointed out.

Quince frowned and rubbed his chin. "Oh yeah…right," he trailed off before heading to the remuda.

Rowdy pushed his hat down lower on his forehead and continued frowning.

"That Ryder. He's the Boss' pet."

Pete gave the ramrod a warning look. "Hey, ease up," he ordered, "He's a good man and an even better cattle drover."

Rowdy sat up straight and gave Pete a dirty look. "Why, he can't be more than seventeen! What's he doing here?"

"I know it," Wishbone added, coming over to the group, drying dishes.

"Ryder certainly is a young'n. But who knows? Maybe he's older than he looks," the cook added. Rowdy frowned; Ryder was underage, plain out annoying, and was stealing his thunder! He'd deal with that rat-catcher later; maybe teach him a thing or two about not being such a kiss-up.

oooooOOOOOooooooo

Anne slowly walked up behind the apple tree and rested her hand on its trunk. She glanced at Gil, who was sitting on the grass beneath the tree, staring out at the night sky. He had a great view from the hill and seemed so enthralled with just watching the stars.

Anne approached him from behind and crossed her arms, staring out into the distance as well.

"It's nice out tonight," she observed.

Gil jumped ins surprise and stood up. He nodded to her in acknowledgement.

"Anne," he greeted, "You frightened me a bit."

"My condolences," she apologized, "I just thought you were supposed to be in the bunk house by now."

"No. I like to stay up late and count the stars. There's no point to it really, but I like to find and name the constellations," Gil replied.

"That's why I came out too," Anne confessed. Gil glanced over at her.

"Do you know any of them?" he asked her.

Anne shrugged and looked down, arms still crossed. "Big Dipper, Little Dipper…that's about it," she explained. Gil smiled.

"Well, sit down and I'll show you some," he said, pleased that he had someone to talk to. He gestured for Anne to sit in the grass and she did so. Gil sat down next to her and pointed out in the night sky.

"That one's Pisces, there's Achilles, and in the Western sky, you can see…" Anne listened to him talk and stared at him for the longest time. She nodded and murmured in reply to everything he said, not really hearing what he said, but hearing his deep voice carry on, so animated and involved in what he was talking about.

When Gil had finished talking he looked at her and she smiled at him.

"Very nice," she said approvingly. They stared at each other for what seemed like forever. Anne felt him draw closer and she did as well. Before either could get close, she had gotten up and was walking back to the house. Gil watched her go and slowly turned away, looking down and tearing little pieces of grass out of the ground. She didn't even say goodnight.

ooooooOOOOOOooooo

Kenny got up out of his bedroll and walked off into the surrounding woods to get some fresh air and some space to think. He lit a cigarette and blew smoke into the night. He rested his arm against a tree and frowned in thought.

Could he really kill Mr. Favor? He'd been slowly trying to gain the Boss' trust and it was working. If he could play the good guy card for a few weeks longer, just until they were way out in the flat lands, he could end this charade and get his revenge. He was more than pleased to discover a scruffy Jeb Hawkins on the drive, but had left him alone. His father would be his prime target for the time being.

ooooOOOOOOOooooo

Rowdy was restless and walked out into the woods. There, he spotted Mr. Favor leaning up against a tree, smoking. He figured he'd just shoot the breeze with him to kill the time.

"Boss," Rowdy murmured, walking up behind Mr. Favor.

Mr. Favor turned around and Rowdy was shocked to discover that it what not the Boss, but was in fact Kenny Ryder.

"Ryder!" Rowdy snapped outrageously.

"Can I help you, Yates?" Ryder asked, blowing some more smoke.

Rowdy cringed. "What are you doing out this late?"

"I could ask you the same question," Ryder replied slowly.

"I asked first," Rowdy growled. Ryder replaced his cigarette and took a long time to reply. After blowing more smoke rings, he doused his cigarette on the tree.

"I've got to change shifts with the nighthawk soon," he explained.

Rowdy narrowed his eyes in frustration and both drovers stood silent for a long time.

"I don't like you much, Ryder," Rowdy hissed through his teeth.

Ryder snorted in amusement, looking off into the distance. "Makes me no never mind. I don't wake up everyday to impress you," he mumbled.

Rowdy screwed up his nose and stood akimbo.

"I don't like your attitude," he continued, "You're an ass-kisser an' I don't care for ass-kissers."

Ryder turned to him and straightened his back, standing taller.

"I don't like prissy little school-girls," Ryder retorted slowly, "They make my stomach turn."

Rowdy clamped his jaw.

"You callin' me what I think you're callin' me?" he demanded. Ryder widened his eyes and put on his most innocent face.

"I called you no name. I just made a statement. I said that I don't like prissy little school-girls. I may have been referring to you, then again, I may not have. I didn't clarify either way, and therefore you have no ground to offer such a backlash," he explained.

Rowdy grabbed Ryder by the front of his shirt with one hand and drew him threateningly close.

"You stay out of my boots, you sonofagun; I'm ramrod here and you're just a cattle hand. You start bossin' people around and I'll clean your plow. You ain't nothing but a half-grown schoolboy and I could take you down with one single blow," he hissed.

Ryder flinched away from Rowdy and pushed his hat up.

"I say you got no place to do any of what you say you're gonna do. Now you're right; I'm only seventeen, but I could make you eat sand if I wanted ya to, and trust me I will if I have to," he shot back, trying desperately to keep his composure. He'd seen Mr. Favor stay calm in so far the most nerve-wracking situations and he figured that if his father could do it, he could too. But this Yates character was driving him crazy enough to eat the devil with horns on.

Rowdy couldn't reply and just waved him off.

Ryder went back to staring into the night and thought about his murder strategy for as long as he could before he had to change shifts.

ooooooOOOOOooooo

The next day, the drovers got an early start and had the herd moving right after breakfast. Ryder was riding swing with several other drovers and was enjoying it for the most part. The sun in sky was beating down on the Texas sand, making the day all the hotter, but he didn't mind. He felt like he was earning his pay. A sudden pang of regret hit him when he realized he'd be stealing his pay anyway. He re-convinced himself that he was just putting on a show and would find a time to end it before he had second thoughts. Quince rode up next to Ryder and yawned.

"I'm pretty bummed out, how's 'bout you?" he questioned.

Ryder shrugged. "A little, I guess," he admitted, "But I can't sleep until tonight, so there ya go."

Suddenly, Mr. Favor and Pete rode up next to Ryder.

"Ryder," the Boss announced, "I want you to go with Pete to help him scout out the trail. Scarlet thought he heard some coyotes last night and I want to be sure there's no sign of 'em when we pass through the hills. Got it?"

Ryder nodded, "Will do, Boss," he complied.

Mr. Favor rode back up to the head of the herd and left Pete with Ryder.

"Right then, Ryder," the scout started, "Let's go."

ooooOOOOOOOooooo

Gil gave the bay horse a good slap on the flank before he continued brushing it down. Its coat twitched as he did so and it swished its tail against the stall.

"You're a dusty thing ain't ya?" he murmured absent-mindedly.

"He likes to roll in the dirt a lot," a voice said.

Gil jerked his head up and grinned when he saw Anne.

"You just got a habit a sneakin' up on people, don't ya?" he chuckled. Anne blushed.

"Sorry," she apologized.

"Don't apologize. I don't mind nice surprises," he said impishly.

Anne smiled and pet the bay's back. "I got him for my seventeenth birthday a couple months ago. Daddy likes him because of how sturdy he's built," she explained.

Gil nodded and toyed with the horse's mane.

"He is quite a horse," he noted. A loud silence consumed the stable and Gil continued running his hand down the horse's mane. Anne walked up next to him and looked down.

"Daddy was also talking about you last night," she mumbled.

Gil rested his arm on the bay and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? What did he say about me?" he questioned. Anne hesitated and cast a sideways glance.

"He says you're a hard worker…but he says he doesn't like how we've been talking to each other. He wants me to stay away from you," she admitted.

A flash of hurt crossed Gil's eyes and he looked away.

"Well…," he sighed, "If that's what your pa wants."

Anne looked up at him.

"Yes," she agreed, "But is it what you want?"

Gil shook his head. "It doesn't matter what I want. If your pa wants you to stay away from me-"

"I asked you if that's what you want," Anne interrupted.

Gil frowned. "No, that's not what I want. I like our talks. But I can't risk losing my job either," he pointed out. Anne huffed.

"Then I should keep away from you?" she asked coldly. Gil nodded.

"It would be the best thing to do. Yes, you should stay away."

Anne rushed out of the stall and headed for the stable exit.

Gil ran after her and grabbed her arm, turning her around.

"I didn't mean it like that," he exclaimed, "I like you, Anne."

She looked up at him, eyes wide. "Is that true?" she murmured.

"Yes," Gil said breathlessly, "It's true."

Anne pursed her lips. "Do you want to talk later? When you're not working?" Gil nodded.

"That would be just fine," he agreed.

Anne whipped her head around and raised her eyebrows.

"I've got to go," she said urgently, "Mother's calling me!"

oooooOOOOOOooooo

Ten miles outside of camp, Pete stopped his horse and glanced around at the surrounding hills.

"Somethin' doesn't seem right," he mumbled, frowning. Kenny looked around.

"Whaddaya mean?" he inquired.

Pete shook his head. "I dunno. Somethin' just seems off. I don't hear any animals out here. In fact, I haven't even seen any," he replied.

Kenny furrowed his brow and his horse shifted in its place. He darted his eyes back and forth, scanning the hills for any signs of life. He thought he saw something flash at the corner of his vision, and he jerked his horse to the right.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out and Pete gasped out in pain and fell off his horse. Kenny dismounted, slapped his horse away, and pulled Pete behind a rock.

Whipping his gun out of its holster, he scanned the hills again, searching for the assailant. He spotted two men on horses; one of them looked like he was cussing.

"Come out Ryder!" one of them shouted angrily.

Kenny clenched his teeth and fired a shot at the ambusher.

"Go to hell!" he shouted as the man fell off of his horse. The other rider looked horrified and fired a haphazard shot at Kenny before galloping off.

Kenny rushed up to Pete and took out his canteen.

"Where'd ya get it?" he asked. The scout gasped out in pain, and clutched his chest.

"I can't breathe!" he coughed. Blood ran out of his mouth and he hunched over in pain. Kenny didn't know hardly anything about treating wounds, but he decided to take a look at it anyway.

"Slow your breathin', for cripes sake!" he snapped.

Pete tried to do as he was told and laid back. "Who was that?" he rasped. Kenny frowned.

"Just some cowardly bandits s'all," he explained, wetting his bandanna and pulling the scout's shirt open. He pressed his bandanna against the wound and cringed in disgust; he hated the sight of blood, but felt foolish for his own being perturbed.

"Don't do that!" Pete yelped, lurching forward.

Kenny grit his teeth and pressed harder.

"I gotta stop the bleedin'!" he barked. Pete nodded, "I know, I know," he gasped.

Kenny blinked frustrated and pushed his hat up.

"Can you ride?" he asked. Pete squinted against the pain and tried to get up.

"I dunno," he mumbled. Kenny helped the scout up.

"It's ten miles back to camp and I can't leave you here with those bandits still around," he explained. Pete rested his weight against Kenny and stumbled to his horse. Kenny helped the scout up on the horse and then attached a rope to the horse's bridle. He looped the rope over to his own saddle and mounted.

"Just hold on tight, Pete," he ordered.

Kenny spurred his horse forward with Pete and his buckskin horse in tow. He glanced back at the scout and saw him hunched over on his horse, holding his chest.

Kenny hoped they'd be able to get back to camp in time. If he let Pete die, there'd be no way he'd build Mr. Favor's trust!

oooooOOOOOOooooo

Gil led his horse through the field of wild flowers, taking a shortcut to town. He paused to pick a few flowers and fed them to his horse.

Out of curiosity, Gil sniffed the flower. The horse felt the flower with its lips, hungry for a bite. Gil snatched it away from him and scolded his steed.

"You leave it alone," he chastised his horse. He stopped and looked at the flower for a very long time; he sniffed it again and then took a bite out of it.

He widened his eyes and gasped, spitting the flower out.

"How do you force those things down your gullet?" he demanded. His horse gave him a blank look and Gil continued to cringe, wishing he hadn't tasted the flower.

He turned red when he realized how stupid he looked; why on earth did he decide to eat a flower? Curiosity killed the cat, he thought.

"Gil!" came a shout.

Gil turned around and shook his head; Anne did it again. She was running through the wild flowers towards him, holding her dress above her ankles and acting very undignified.

She stopped a few feet in front of him and let go of her dress, trying to catch her breath.

"What are ya doin' out here?" he asked.

"I wanted to talk to you before you went into town," she explained, "You said we could talk when you weren't working."

Gil chuckled; she was right.

Anne beamed when she saw his palomino. "Is this your horse?" she gasped, running up to the beast and petting its muzzle.

"Yes. His name's Francis," Gil replied, holding onto its reins.

Anne continued petting the horse. "I wish I had a palomino," she said longingly. Gil rolled his eyes and smiled. "You can ride him anytime you want," he offered. Anne raised her eyebrows and grinned.

"Thank you!" she said, grabbing the horse's mane and hauling herself into the saddle. Gil rushed to help her up before she fell off the horse. They both tumbled down into the grass, and Anne looked surprised.

"Sorry!" she laughed. Gil sat up and brushed himself off.

"I take it you don't ride often?" he said wryly. Anne giggled. "Not really. Mother doesn't like it when I ride. She's says it's not ladylike,"

Gil shook his head again; he had to admit that he was taken with this girl. She seemed to have an unlimited supply of energy and was always hopping around and talking. Sometimes she wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she certainly had a personality.

Anne sat in the grass, making no attempt to get back up again. Gil sat with her, plucking flowers out of the grass and talking to her about horses. Anne nodded every now and then, and glanced up at Francis, who was noisily wolfing down more flowers.

"I better be gett'n to town," Gil sighed after awhile.

He made a move to get up, but Anne grabbed his arm and made him sit back down.

"Don't go," she pleaded, "I want you to stay!"

Gil looked at her, a little shocked that she found his company so desirable. He continued to look into her blue eyes, still seeing her begging him to stay.

"I'll stay," he murmured.

He ran his hand up her arm and then into her hair. Anne was frozen, staring at him with a mixture of surprise and anticipation. The two leaned into each other, meeting with a slow kiss. Anne reached to draw Gil closer, but he pulled away and looked down. Anne frowned.

"What?" she asked confusedly, "Haven't you ever kissed a girl before?"

He looked up at her, cocking an eyebrow; why would she ask such a question?

"It's not that," he mumbled, "If your Pa catches us…"

Anne sighed in exasperation and tilted her head. "He won't," she confirmed, "You worry a lot,"

Gil cast a sideways glance. "I don't want to go against his wishes is all," he said.

"Do you love me or not?" Anne demanded.

"Love?" Gil echoed in horror. What had he gotten himself into?

Anne looked hurt and offended. "Then it's not that," she said coldly, starting to get up. Gil felt his chest tighten; he had to regain his footing, and fast.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her down into the grass, drawing her close.

"It's much more than that," he said softly before kissing her. He felt Anne relax and she wrapped her arms around him in a gentle embrace.

oooooOOOOOooooo

Kenny picked up his pace as he neared the camp. He heard the soft moos of the cows as he passed the nighthawk.

"Who is it?" Jeb Hawkins asked cautiously. Kenny dismounted and raced over to the buckskin to pull Pete down off the horse.

"He's gonna die if you don't get him a doctor!" Kenny exclaimed, trying his best to drag the scout into the camp. Jeb dismounted as well and gasped.

"Pete!" he hissed.

He grabbed the scout's other arm and helped Kenny drag him into camp. "Mr. Favor!" Jeb called.

Mr. Favor sat up in his bedroll, along with the other drovers. "What is it Jeb?" he questioned before taking in the scene that unfolded before him.

A limp Pete Nolan, shirt soaked in blood, was being helped into camp by none other than Ryder and Jeb.

"What the hell happened?" the trail boss demanded, rushing over to the two drovers and helping them lay Pete down in an empty bedroll.

"Wishbone!" Mr. Favor shouted, "Get over here!"

Wishbone and mushy ran over to the scene, the cook with his doctoring bag ready and Mushy just there to watch.

"How bad is he hurt?" he asked, pulling open the scout's shirt.

"Take a look yerself," Ryder said, gesturing towards Pete's unmoving body.

Wishbone froze for a moment, staring at the wound. He quickly glanced up at the trail boss.

"He needs a doctor bad," he declared, "There's not much I can do. I think he's got a slug lodged in one a his ribs. It could be in a lung but I cain't be sure. The way he's rasping it's possible,"

"Dang it!" Mr. Favor snapped, "The nearest town is Denton, 'bout fifteen miles away and I don't even know if they have a doctor."

Rowdy saddled up.

"I can ride and get 'im," he suggested. Mr. Favor stood up and huffed, angered that his hotheaded ramrod was taking matters into his own hands.

"Fine," he growled, "Make it quick. Seconds are gonna count if we're gonna save his life."

Quince and Scarlet, at the orders of Wishbone, gathered up some rags and wet them down. "Give 'em here!" the cook ordered, taking them and trying his best to dress Pete's wound.

"He looks like crud," Scarlet mumbled, staring in pity at Pete's body.

Quince snorted. "He probably feels like crud," he pointed out. Hey Soos nodded.

"Tis no good, no."

oooooOOOOOOooooo

Anne laid her head on Gil's chest, staring up at the stars with him from underneath the apple tree on the hill. Gil sighed and squeezed her tighter.

"It's mild out tonight," he pointed out.

"Yeah," Anne murmured, putting her hand over Gil's chest to feel his breathing.

"I wanna be with you forever," she sighed happily. Gil chuckled softly.

"I'd like to be with you longer than forever," he countered.

"What's longer than forever?" Anne asked, looking up at him.

"Eternity?" Gil laughed. Anne rolled her eyes. "You don't wanna be with me for that long!" she said accusingly.

Gil continued staring at the stars. "I dunno. The thought sounds pretty attractive right now," he whispered.

"You know what's attractive?" Anne asked.

"You?"

"I was going to say you, but okay," Anne replied. Gil laughed and shook his head; he felt like this was heaven.

ooooOOOOOOooooo

Kenny trekked up to the top of the hill where Mr. Favor stood, smoking. Kenny shoved his hands in his pockets and stood behind the boss.

"Think he'll make it?" he asked.

Mr. Favor didn't turn to look at the drover.

"If the doctor ses so, it must be true," he replied bluntly. Kenny shrugged.

"I'd feel bad if he died," he replied. Mr. Favor gave a noncommittal grunt.

"He shouldn't," he grumbled. He then looked at Kenny and narrowed his eyes.

"You got him here fast enough," he added. Kenny nodded.

"I don't even know who shot him. Jus' some bandits, I'd guess," he admitted.

Kenny knew exactly who had fired the shots, but he couldn't blow his cover. He knew that the law or even some bounty hunters would track him down and kill him eventually. That was why he had to finish the job before he got killed. He couldn't die knowing his oppressor had gotten away.

"Boss…?" he trailed off, coming close to revealing himself. Mr. Favor gave him a quizzical look. "Yes?"

Kenny hesitated. "Nothin'."

With that, he walked back down to the herd and spotted the trail of dust as the doctor left as he rode away. When he traipsed into camp, everyone looked less worried.

"How's he doin?" he questioned Mushy.

Mushy turned around to face the drover. "Oh," he started, "The doc says he'll be fine. He just needs to stay out of the saddle for a couple weeks,"

"A couple weeks?" Kenny echoed.

Wishbone nodded as he stirred whatever was in the pot above the fire.

"If the doc says it, that's what'll be done. There's no way Mr. Nolan will be back in the saddle any sooner," he declared. Kenny huffed; what were they going to do without a scout? Sure, he himself could scout pretty well, but he didn't want to have to go solo.

"Would you leave me alone already?" a harsh voice snapped.

Kenny and Wishbone turned around to see Pete, who lay on his back in a bedroll, scolding Quince for harassing him.

"Don't ya have anyth'n better ta do than harass me?" the scout demanded, his voice raspy.

"Whose ass?" Rowdy asked, walking into the circle of drovers with his canteen of water.

Quince snorted in amusement and Rowdy grinned. Pete waved them both off and pulled his hat over his face.

"I swear to God I'll go North before I get better, with these petunias naggin' me," he complained, wincing as he grasped his bandaged chest.

"We're just worried 'bout ya, Pete," Rowdy said innocently.

"Yeah," Quince agreed, rubbing his mustache, "We know how weak and scrawny ya are,"

Pete snorted, "Uh-huh,"

"Come on, you could take a bath in a shotgun barrel!" Rowdy teased. Pete rolled his eyes and craned his neck to look up at his tormenters.

"Would you mind shuttin' yer big bazoos 'fore I glue 'em shut?" he asked irritably.

Rowdy laughed. "Okay," he relented, "If yer gonna be so ugly 'bout it."

Pete scoffed. "I got a right to, ain't I?"

Quince jabbed Rowdy in the stomach, "Yeah, come on Rowdy!" he said sarcastically, "Pete can be ugly if he wants to! Why, he's as ugly as a burnt boot!"

"And mean enough to hunt bears with a hickory switch!" Scarlett put in.

"Can ya blame him?" a deep voice said flatly.

All drovers turned to see the trail boss walking into camp. He grabbed a biscuit from the chuck wagon and tossed it in the air a couple times.

"We was just havin' a bit of fun, Boss," Scarlet explained quickly.

"That's fine," Mr. Favor replied, "Just do it at someone else's expense. I need Pete back in the saddle as soon as possible, and with you men botherin' him, I don't think that'll be anytime soon,"

"So…?" Mushy asked.

"So leave. Him. Be." Mr. Favor said curtly. Mushy nodded. "Sure thing, Mr. Favor," he said excitedly. Mr. Favor rolled his eyes and walked off while Kenny watched him go.

He'd have to make his move sooner or later…

oooooOOOOOOooooo

Gil cringed as he finished mucking out the horse stalls. He wiped his brow and stabbed the pitchfork into a pile of clean hay. As he started to pitch, he heard a click. Turning around, Gil saw Mr. Ryder entering the barn and sit down on a stack of hay; he was holding his rifle.

Gil ignored his boss and continued pitching the hay into the clean stalls. He wondered what Mr. Ryder was doing outside of the house. He rarely ever saw his boss around the stable.

"Favor," Mr. Ryder said gruffly. Gil froze and turned around to face his employer.

"Yes, Mr. Ryder?" he asked, trying to stay calm. Mr. Ryder exhaled slowly and retrieved a cloth from his pocket and started to clean his rifle.

"Working hard?" he asked.

Gil nodded. "Yes, sir," he replied obediently. Mr. Ryder didn't look up from shining his rifle.

"Good," he murmured.

"I cleaned the horse stalls, swept the aisles, brushed the-,"

"But there's one extra thing I want you to do," Mr. Ryder interrupted.

Gil swallowed hard; oh no…what? Mr. Ryder stood up with his rifle at his side and walked up to Gil, standing inches away from him, and several inches taller than him.

"Stay away from my daughter," he growled. Gil could feel his hot breath hit his face, but he didn't flinch or look away. He tried to force a smile and make an excuse.

"I don't-"

"That's an order. If I catch you talking to her, or even near her, I'll have your head," Mr. Ryder snapped. Gil stared at his boss and nodded slowly.

"Yes, sir," he murmured.

Mr. Ryder snorted and turned on his heel, stalking out of the stable. Gil stood there frowning; now what was he going to do?

oooooOOOOOOoooooo

Jason Murdock and Chase Archer sat around a fire and carved stakes with their pocket knives.

"Think we're getting' closer to find'n 'im?" Chase asked wryly, pushing his hat up and giving Jason a quizzical look.

Jason huffed and threw down his stake. Chase sat up and frowned.

"Come on now, you been quiet all week. I'm sorry, okay. I know you didn't want Harry to get hurt, but when you're a bounty hunter, things happen," he explained.

Jason glared at his red-haired partner.

"It's almost not worth going after Ryder anymore," he snapped, "He can gun down two men with one bullet."

Chase snorted.

"That's a lie. If youda been quicker, you woulda gotten him fast and easy, 'stead you got his goofball partner," he retorted. Jason furrowed his brow and traced circles into the dirt with his knife. It'd been a whole week since his brother, Harry Murdock had gotten killed by the outlaw, Kenny Ryder. They had been in pursuit of Ryder ever since he had shot the sheriff and banker in Stockton, and were intent on bringing him to justice. Jason tried to be honest with himself; he really didn't care if Ryder saw justice. He was more interested in the one-thousand dollars that came with him. He was wanted dead or alive and the easiest way to handle a criminal like that, Chase said, was to "have 'em lay dead in the saddle rather than sittin' upright and able to escape" . He said it was also more echo-nominal, or something along those lines, anyway.

Ever since Harry got shot, Jason and Chase had been quicker and surer when trailing Ryder, who was apparently working on the Favor cattle drive. The only thing they needed to do next, was to get Ryder away from the herd and kill him. It'd be easier than cutting a dead cow from a shade tree.

ooooOOOOOOoooo

Rowdy listened contentedly as Hey Soos sat by the fire and strummed softly on Pete's guitar. He was ready to drift off to the music, when he saw Jeb fidgeting at the corner of his eye.

"What's eatin' you?" the young ramrod questioned, raising one eyebrow in curiosity.

Jeb frowned and sat closer to Rowdy.

"It's Ryder," he muttered, "I know him."

Rowdy cracked an innocent half-grin. "Well," he started, "We all know him."

Jeb shook his head. "Ever since he joined this drive and I heard his name, I've been knowin' who he is. Not only is his name familiar, but also his appearance," he explained.

Rowdy was interested. "Oh yeah?" he asked, "Where do you know him from?"

Jeb rubbed his stubbly chin and pinched his wrinkled face in thought. Rowdy rolled his eyes as he waited for a response.

"You ain't gonna tell anybody, is ya?" Jeb asked dubiously. Rowdy put his hand up.

"I swear on my mamma's grave," he said.

"She ain't dead," Jeb said disdainfully.

Rowdy shrugged. "She don't have ta be dead for me to swear on her grave," he lied.

Jeb huffed and leaned in closer to talk in a low voice to the ramrod.

"I think Ryder is Mr. Favor's son," he whispered. Rowdy's eyes bolted wide open.

"What?" he hissed. Jeb clenched his teeth.

"Not so loud, ya moron!" he scolded.

Rowdy grabbed Jeb and took him behind the supply wagon to talk. "Are you off your mental reservation?" he demanded harshly. Jeb stood akimbo.

"You gotta understand," he warned, "I grew up with Mr. Favor. Sure, he's 'bout fifteen years younger'n me, but I know his face and his mannerisms like I know the proverbial back a my hand!"

Rowdy was utterly confused, and even more so as Jeb continued.

"Y-see," Jeb started, "Mr. Favor was engaged to marry Charlie Ryder's daughter, Anne Ryder. Her father disagreed with the arrangement and had planned on moving to California anyways, so he took Anne and her mother with him. Anne was carryin' Mr. Favor's child at the time, and all I knew is that it was a boy, cuz she wrote me sometimes. I don't know what he looked like or what she named him, but I think Kenny Ryder is her and Mr. Favor's kid."

Rowdy was slack-jawed. "Does the Boss know he has a son?"

Jeb shook his head. "No. I knew only because Anne told me. She made me promise not tell Mr. Favor he had a son. She didn't want him to worry about her. Darn stupid thing to do though."

Rowdy ran his hands through his thick ash-blonde hair and exhaled.

"Does Kenny know?" he questioned.

"Anne said she'd never tell 'im, but that don't mean he hasn't already figured it out," Jeb murmured. Rowdy pursed his lips.

"What a mess," he hissed through his teeth.

Jeb got up close to Rowdy and gave him a deadly look. "I swear that if you tell anyone what I just told ya, or you take matters into yer own hands, I'll tear out your entrails and feed 'em to the buzzards, got it?"

Rowdy nodded, "Sure."

ooooOOOOOOooooooo

It'd been three months since Gil had started seeing Anne. He'd been warned more than four times to stay away from her, but he couldn't. Anne had the most pleading expressions and he could never tell her "no" for anything.

All their meetings took place in secret and in a secluded place. Anne liked to go to the flower field to talk, but it was within view of the house and they had since moved their conversations to the orchard. Today, Gil swore he was going to tell her how he really felt about her. At first he felt a bit annoyed by her, but now he felt drawn to her. So much that they had discussed a possible engagement. He knew it was crazy, but so was Mr. Ryder trying to keep them from seeing each other.

As Gil raced to the orchard, his heart raced even faster; he hoped that what he was going to ask her wouldn't upset her.

Climbing the hill to the lone apple tree, he spotted Anne standing under it, looking rather forlorn. Gil climbed the hill and greeted her.

"How are you?" he asked.

Anne forced a smile. "Not well," she mumbled. Gil grinned at her anyway. "You'll be well when we get married," he said excitedly. Anne widened her eyes and stared at him in disbelief.

"Married?" she echoed.

"Yes, of course!" he said, putting his hands around her waist. Anne's face was a mixture of joy and despair.

"Oh, Gil!" she said apologetically, "It won't work!"

With that, she collapsed into his arms, trying to hold back her tears.

"What's wrong?" he asked her, pushing her back to look her in the eyes.

Anne wiped her tear-stained face and sighed. "My father says that we're moving to California with my mother's relatives," she explained unhappily.

"But why?" Gil asked, rather taken aback.

"He'd planned on doing it anyway, but even more so now that he knows we're seeing each other," Anne murmured.

"Why does your pa hate me so much?" Gil asked angrily, turning away.

Anne shook her head. "It's not that," she argued, "He just doesn't think we're good for each other."

"We're not good for anyone else!" Gil countered.

Anne sighed. "I know it,"

The two sat in silence for a long time as Anne tried to regain her composure.

Gil paused for a moment and looked at her.

"When are ya leavin'?"

"This weekend," Anne replied.

Gil put his arms around her and held her tightly. "I guess this'll be one of the last times we'll be seeing each other," he concluded.

Anne nodded. "Looks like it."

They sat down beneath he apple tree and pulled at the grass, making grass chains. Gil snorted in amusement. "We won't be seeing each other again and instead of saying goodbye, we're playing with grass," he noted. Anne chuckled; she then went silent for a moment and looked at him.

"Gil?" she asked.

"Mm?"

"I have something to tell you-"

A loud shout brought them both out of their thoughts. "Favor!" Mr. Ryder yelled, approaching the two very quickly, holding his rifle.

"Oh no!" Anne moaned.

When Mr. Ryder was face to face with Gil, he was fuming. "I told you to stay away from my daughter!" he barked. Gil held his boss' stare with an unwavering glare.

"You're right," he said calmly, "You did."

Mr. Ryder narrowed his eyes and cocked his rifle. "Than why are you with her?" he demanded. Anne tried to speak up, but Gil silenced her.

"We were just saying goodbye," he said defiantly.

Mr. Ryder huffed. "I'll bet," he snapped, "When I go with Anne back to California, I'll be glad to leave you behind."

He then grabbed Anne by her wrist and yanked her away, storming back to the house. Gil cringed. "The feeling's mutual pal," he grumbled.

ooooOOOOOOooooo

Pete groaned and turned over in his bedroll in the supply wagon. Wishbone said a few choice words and then scowled at the scout.

"If you won't let me look atchya, how can I tell if yer getting' better?" he demanded.

Pete rolled his eyes. "Yer a witch doctor, Wish," he muttered, "And I'd like if you'd stay out of my shirt,"

"Yeah," Scarlet added, "He's ticklish."

Wishbone huffed and sat akimbo. "Pete Nolan," he said threateningly, "Yer a big baby and I don't much give a hoot if yer ticklish,"

"I ain't ticklish!" Pete retorted.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

Wishbone grabbed a feather duster and attacked the scout with it.

"Oh for the love of God, stop it!" Pete snapped, squirming as Wishbone tickled him. Scarlet cocked an eyebrow and Quince poked his head into the wagon when he heard Pete laughing. Wishbone rolled his eyes and tossed the feather duster aside.

Pete snorted with laughter and tried to calm down. He winced in pain and groaned.

"Now look what ya did to me!" he rasped, holding his chest. Wishbone ignored him.

"Oh, shut yer yap and let me take a look at ya!" he ordered. Pete grudgingly consented and screwed up his nose in annoyance as Wishbone tried replacing his bandages.

Suddenly, Rowdy climbed up into the wagon, making it shake.

"Hurry it up, Wish!" he urged the cook, "We're getting' hungry out there and yer sittin' in here doing God knows what to Pete!"

Wishbone huffed.

"I'm doctoring 'im!" he declared. Rowdy gave the cook a dubious look and Quince piped up.

"He was ticklin' 'im!"

"Oh, Shut up, Quince!" Pete snapped ungraciously.

A smile spilled over Rowdy's face and he snickered before hopping out of the wagon.

oooooOOOOOOooooo

Thunder cracked across the skies as Chase kicked dirt over the fire. He looked up and frowned.

"Rain," he murmured. Jason's eyes grew wide.

"Not today…" he complained.

Chase huffed, grabbed his saddle, and started towards his horse. Jason did the same and followed his partner.

"Where we goin'?" he queried. Chase grunted as he threw the saddle over his frightened horse. "Town," he replied.

Jason raised his eyebrows.

"Why?"

"We need to get the sheriff and gather up a posse," Chase explained, "There's no way we can take on twenty men all by ourselves."

Jason furrowed his brow.

"What makes you think the sheriff'll help us?" he asked. Chase sighed.

"All we have to do is tell him that Ryder is a wanted criminal in Stockton and that he shot yer brother!"

Jason cast a sideways glance. "I just sure hope we can take 'em all on if they decide to fight," he mumbled. Chase mounted and looked up at the sky again.

"They won't fight," he assured Jason. He then added, "If they know what's good for 'em anyways…"

Jason sighed and mounted his horse, ready to ride.

ooooOOOOOOooooo

Rowdy flinched as a thunderclap shook the ground. Mr. Favor frowned and put his hat on.

"Quince, Teddy," he summoned, "Gather up some men and keep an eye on the cattle; we don't want a stampede."

The men nodded and ran off to perform their duties. Rowdy squinted as he looked at the cloudy sky.

"What'll we do if we get a downpour?" he questioned.

"It's the lightning I'm worried about," Mr. Favor muttered.

Rowdy shook his head. "It's gonna be hard to keep the cattle under control if it does,"

Wishbone came walking up to the boss and the ramrod and sighed.

"I swear, if Mr. Nolan doesn't start getting better soon, he'll drive me to the funny farm!" he griped.

"That'd be a short trip," Rowdy chuckled.

Mr. Favor grinned and shook his head. Wishbone huffed.

"It isn't funny!" he retorted, "Pete thinks he can be as stubborn as he wants just because he's hurt!"

Mr. Favor snorted. "He's stubborn anyway," he pointed out. Wishbone scoffed and stormed off. "Looks like the weather's getting' to everybody," Rowdy mumbled. Mr. Favor gave a noncommittal grunt as he lit up a cigarette.

Meanwhile, Kenny was sitting on a stump by his horse, fidgeting uncontrollably; he never thought that coming so close to killing felt so frustrating.

Kenny scowled at his second target.

"What's yer deal?" Jeb asked as he passed by Kenny, horse in tow.

"Nothin'!" Kenny snapped.

Jeb shrugged and hitched his horse up with the remuda.

Kenny watched him and screwed up his nose at his hated enemy. Again he silently swore he would kill Hawkins right after he killed Mr. Favor.

Kenny inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. Getting up, he walked to the edge of the camp and took his hat off, wiping his brow. He took a few more deep breaths and thought of how he would confront Mr. Favor. He then started talking to himself.

"What am I gonna say?" he sighed, "'I'm your son, now you're gonna die!'?"

Kenny closed his eyes briefly to think and then looked at the hills in the distance and the storm clouds gathering. He bolted his eyes wide open when he saw a large group of men on horses standing on a hill. They were finally coming to get him!

ooooOOOOOoooo

Gil rode up to the plantation to see the workers in the fields schlepping away and Jeb standing by to supervise them, his whip ready. Gil shook his head and dismounted. Leading his horse to the field, he approached Jeb.

"Say," he started, "Have you seen Anne?"

Jeb snorted. "Yeah," he muttered, "She's headin' down for the station with the Mr. And Mrs.,"

Gil's eyes went round. "What?" he demanded. Jeb turned back to the slaves and scratched his head.

"Yup," he replied, "Ryder sold the place yesterday and is takin' the train to California to take up a job offer he got. Apparently he's takin' the family with him."

Gil was horrified. "Who bought the place?" he demanded. Jeb lolled his tongue in his mouth.

"My uncle," he said curtly, not meeting Gil's eyes.

"Darn," he cursed.

Jeb chuckled. "I told ya it was gonna happen sooner er later," he laughed, "My uncle saved up and has finally invested in someth'n other an whiskey!"

"No," Gil argued, "Darn that Anne's goin' with!"

Jeb raised his eyebrows. "Oh," he then paused and grinned, "Darn right."

Gil rolled his eyes and hopped on his horse.

"I quit!" he shouted before turning his horse around and galloping off the property.

"Where ya goin'?" Jeb called to him.

Gil looked back over his shoulder. "To stop Anne!"

Jeb furrowed his brow; was that really wise?

ooooOOOOOoooooo

Kenny ran back to the camp as quickly as he could to warn the others. Although when he arrived, he saw that the drovers were already poised for action, guns out of their holsters and their eyes narrowed in on the distance.

Thunder cracked across the sky again and the clouds lit up.

"Terrific," Mr. Favor growled under his breath, "Just terrific."

Kenny whipped out his gun and aimed it towards the unidentified riders on the hill. Their silhouettes were quickly outlined by the lightning flashing in the sky.

The cattle started moaning and shifting their places in the herd. Mr. Favor tore his glare away from the riders to watch as the cattle started getting uncomfortable. He gritted his teeth and looked back at the group.

"What do ya want?" he shouted at the riders. Thunder rumbled as the first rider came forward.

"Name's Ted Clausen, sheriff of Denton City. We're here for a man named Kenneth Rider," he said loudly.

Kenny thought his heart stopped as every drover in the camp stared at him.

Mr. Favor narrowed his eyes. "Whaddaya want with Ryder?" he demanded, gun pointed cautiously at the sheriff.

"He's a wanted criminal in California. He killed the sheriff and banker of Stockton three months ago and also killed a man by the name of Harry Murdock a week and a half ago,"

Mr. Favor frowned and looked at Ryder. "S'true?" he questioned. Ryder hesitated and shifted his glance. He then yanked his gun out of his holster and pointed it at the trail boss. Lightning flashed as every drover's eyes went wide.

"You're darn right it's true," he snapped, "I've been waiting a long time for this, Mr. Favor."

Rowdy cringed. "What are you talking about, you-"

Mr. Favor put his hand up for silence.

"Let him speak his peace," he ordered. Kenny smiled slyly. "Do you know who I really am, Mr. Favor?"

The trail boss sighed. "I guess not."

"Well, what'll it be, Favor?" Clausen called.

"Give us a minute to think about it!" the boss yelled back.

"You got five minutes!" Clausen replied.

Kenny clenched his teeth and pulled the hammer back on his revolver. Quince was about to jump forward, but Kenny stared him down.

"Try anything and your precious boss is dead," he threatened.

"Now what's this all about, Ryder?" Mr. Favor snapped impatiently.

Kenny took a step towards Mr. Favor. "I asked you if you knew who I was. Apparently you don't, so I'm gonna tell ya," he growled.

More thunder crackled and the steers started bawling even louder.

"My name's Kenneth Favor," he hissed.

"Should I know you, then?" the boss asked suspiciously.

Kenny burst out laughing and then regained his composure. "I'm your son, you goshdarned sonofagun!"

All the drovers gasped and Rowdy grit his teeth in frustration. The boss' only reaction was widened eyes.

"Can you back that up?" he challenged.

Kenny stepped forward. "Does the name Anne Ryder ring a bell?" he barked.

Mr. Favor's eyes went round.

Kenny nodded.

"I knew it would," he sneered. "That's not true!" Mr. Favor argued, "I don't have a son!"

Rowdy stepped forward and sighed.

"It is true, Boss," he said sorrowfully, "Ryder's your son."

For seemingly the first time in his life, Mr. Favor was taken off guard by his ramrod's declaration.

"How would you know?" he snapped.

Jeb Hawkins came forward as well and looked down. "I told him."

"But-"

"Anne was carrying your child when she left Texas, Gil! She wrote me and told me so!" he argued.

Mr. Favor tried desperately to deny it. "Why didn't she tell me?" he rasped, looking utterly defeated. Quince, Wishbone, and Mushy all looked confused.

"She wanted to before she left, but she didn't have the chance," Jeb explained, "When she got out to California, her parents found out and practically disowned her! The only reason she didn't write you is because she didn't want you to go blamin' yerself for not being there for her!"

Mr. Favor sat down on the wheel of the supply wagon and stared at the ground.

"Anne…" he trailed off. Jeb put his hand on the trail boss' shoulder.

"Anne wrote me and told me about her troubles 'cuz she needed someone to confide in. She made me swear not to tell you about Kenny. Heck, I didn't even know his name er what he looked like until I saw your face next to his and heard his last name. I knew he had to be the kid Anne always talked about."

Kenny growled and clenched his gun harder.

"Enough of this!" he shouted, "Stand up, Mr. Favor, or I'll shoot ya sittin' down!"

"You ain't shootin' nobody!" Wishbone snapped.

Kenny glared at the cook. "Wanna make a bet?"

Rain started pouring down and more lightning flashed in the sky.

"You made my life miserable, Mr. Favor!" Kenny said accusingly, "Because of you, my ma was written out of my grandpa's will and she starved to death in a shack on a piece of land the bank took from her! Now you gonna die!"

Mr. Favor stood up straight and frowned.

"Was it my fault because I didn't even know you were alive?" he retorted, clearly at the end of his rope.

Kenny pursed his lips and stared at his father furiously.

"It is yer fault," he shouted, "Because yer a frickin' stud!"

Mr. Favor looked back at Kenny and scowled at him. "You're askin' for a fight, kid," he shot back.

Rowdy whipped out his revolver and was going to shoot Kenny, but Mr. Favor stopped him.

"You crazy?" he demanded. Rowdy looked confused.

"But you heard what he said! He's gonna kill you! Don't ya think we should kill 'im first?" he said defiantly; Rowdy was ready to fight to the death for his trail boss.

Mr. Favor looked back at Kenny and cringed. "He isn't worth killin'," he muttered. Kenny raised his eyebrows and went slack-jawed.

"So? Looks like I'm getting disowned too?" he sneered. Mr. Favor turned away and stood akimbo, not wanting to have anything more to do with Ryder.

"You better go to Clausen. You heard what he said; you're a wanted criminal," he grumbled. Kenny looked around the camp of drovers, desperate for some support, but all men had steely-eyed expressions. "You can't let them take me!" he cried out. Mr. Favor glared at him.

"Don't come crawling to me for help. You got yourself into this mess!" he barked. Rowdy, still pretty confused, shrugged. "I dunno, Boss," he murmured. Mr. Favor gave his ramrod a deadly look, but he still continued. "We could at least try and defend Ryder. I mean, he is one of our men," he pointed out. Mr. Favor was about to argue, but Wishbone piped up.

"Rowdy's right; we should at least try and see if we can make a deal with those men. After all, Kenny is your son!"

Mr. Favor looked outraged. "Didn't you hear Clausen? Ryder killed three innocent men!"

"They fired first!" Kenny said defensively, "The third man I killed because he shot Nolan!"

Mushy nodded. "Couldn't we at least try?" he pleaded.

Mr. Favor narrowed his eyes.

"Not gonna kill me, eh?" he challenged Kenny.

Kenny looked down and stared at the gun in his hand. "I wouldn't have a chance against these men anyways," he muttered.

"Can't you make up yer mind?" Rowdy demanded, "Do you want me to kill ya or fight for ya? If you can't play nice with the boss, you'll be pushin' up daisies 'fore you can say 'saddle sore'!"

Kenny sighed as the rain poured down harder. He then glanced up at Mr. Favor and gave him an apologetic look.

"I never really wanted to kill ya," he confessed, "I just needed someone to feel the pain I went through bein' raised by a poor mother and never knowin' what it was like to have a father."

Mr. Favor closed his eyes momentarily and nodded. "I'm sorry it had to be like that," he admitted, "I loved your mother…trust me…if I had known she…I-I would've been with her every step of the way."

He straightened out his shoulders and looked over at the herd.

"She always had to be so darn difficult," he murmured.

"Five minutes is well up, Mr. Favor!" Clausen yelled over the storm. Mr. Favor turned and screwed up his nose at the sheriff and his posse.

"I know it," he shouted back, "But ya can't have Ryder!"

"This is your last chance," Clausen warned, his posse shifting on their horses behind him; they were itching for a fight. "If ya don't give 'im up, we'll come after him!"

Mr. Favor stood akimbo and raised his chin in defiance.

"And we'll fight ya to the death," he said matter-of-factly, "So turn around and go back the way ya came or prepare to get your rear whipped!"

Rowdy grinned and got his gun ready; Oh, he was going to enjoy this!

Clausen sighed. "Suit yerself!" he concluded. He then turned his horse around and his men dismounted. Then, like some kind of ritual, his men dispersed behind some rocks and aimed their guns.

"Get ready!" Mr. Favor said in alarm, ducking behind the supply wagon. Quince and Scarlett pulled the hammers back on their pistols and got ready to fire at their targets. Hey Soos nervously shifted from foot to foot.

"Dis is not gohin to goh wehel!" he said warningly.

Clausen fired the first shot and dozens came afterwards. The fight was back and forth between the drovers and the posse, Kenny fighting for himself as well.

The thunder cracked and the lighting flashed, rain making it harder for the men to see each other.

"Spread out!" Mr. Favor commanded, "We'll get wiped out if we group together!"

Kenny sat shoulder to shoulder with the Boss, his gun aimed to blow off Clausen's head. He paused before doing so.

"This is one crazy fight, Mr. Favor," he said loudly, trying to make himself heard over the downpour.

"Now what's so hard about the word, 'Pa'?" Mr. Favor growled, not taking his eyes off of his targets.

Kenny stared at his father in disbelief; could Mr. Favor really accept him?

"I said spread out!" Mr. Favor barked again. Kenny nodded and got up to move to a different spot. Before he was even on his feet, a shot rang out and he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. He yelled in pain and fell face-down into a muddy puddle of water. "Kenny!" Mr. Favor shouted, rushing to his son's aid. He looked up and saw who had shot Kenny; it was none other than Chase Archer.

"Damn you!" the Boss screamed, aiming his gun at the bounty hunter. He didn't get the shot off before Archer fell off his perch and onto the rocks below, spilling his guts into the mud. Jason Murdock yelped. "Chase!" he screeched. Mr. Favor was horrified; he hadn't even fired! Turning around, he saw who had.

"Pete!" he gasped.

Pete Nolan stood up straight, holding his bandaged chest with one hand, and a gun with his other.

"Dirty son of a gun," he spat.

Mr. Favor was grateful to his scout, but quickly turned back to his injured son.

"Kenny!" he shouted again, flipping the drover over, getting his face out of the water.

The posse halted when they saw that Ryder had been hit. They paused their fire to see what would happen next.

"Kenny, where's it hurt?" Mr. Favor pressed.

Blood trickled out of Kenny's mouth and he forced a smile. "Everywhere, Mr. Favor," he chuckled. The drovers gathered around, and Mushy looked like he was going to be sick from the amount of blood that was pouring from Kenny's stomach and into the mud.

"I asked you what was so hard about the name, 'Pa'," the trail boss joked lightheartedly. Kenny coughed again and continued smiling.

"Nothin'….Pa…," he rasped. With that, Kenneth Favor gasped for breath and then fell limp. Mr. Favor stared in horror at his dead son's body and Rowdy widened his eyes. Jeb shook his head and took off his hat, even as the rain continued to pour down. Blood mixed in with the rain and the mud, making the camp seem like the location of a massacre.

In fact, that was what seemed to have happened.

Ted Clausen stood up straight and huffed. "If you want the bounty money, you can have it…even if it was Chase who shot him,"

All the drovers looked completely outraged. Mr. Favor was numb with pain, yet looked up at the self-righteous sheriff.

"He was my son," he replied bluntly.

Clausen darted his eyes to the side and looked rather uneasy. "Yes…well…"

"Get outta here before I murder ya!" the Boss suddenly screamed. Rowdy cracked his knuckles and Pete cocked his pistol. Clausen quickly stumbled through the mud to his horse and gestured for his men to ride out.

The rain slowed down as Mr. Favor stood up from Kenny's body. He frowned and clenched his fists.

"Wishbone," he summoned.

"Yes, Mr. Favor?" the cook asked, eager to please.

"Wrap him up," the Boss said bitterly.

All the drovers took off their hats and looked on blankly as Mushy grabbed a white sheet and helped Wishbone take care of Mr. Favor's son.

Mr. Favor slapped his Stetson against his leg and turned angrily away from the sorry sight. He walked up to Pete and cringed at him.

"Aren't you supposed to be resting?" he demanded.

Pete held his boss' stare with an unwavering glare. "Yes," he replied, "But it looked like ya needed a bit a help."

"You can help me by getting better!" Mr. Favor growled before storming off to only God knew where. He then added, "There's been enough deaths tonight."

ooooOOOOOOooooooo

Gil galloped his horse to the train station and jerked it to a halt. He looked around frantically through the crowd for Anne.

"Anne!" he shouted. He pulled the reins on his horse hard and ran it towards the train. He trotted alongside the train, looking through the windows.

He saw many scandalized people giving him angered looks as he peeked through the windows, but he didn't care; he had to find Anne and persuade her and her father to stay!

Gil suddenly heard the train whistle and the wheels screech as they moved.

"Anne!" he called again over the din of the crowd. "Gil!" a shout came back.

Gil turned his horse around and saw Anne poking her head out of one of the train's windows. He galloped his horse through the crowd, angering even more people as they jumped out of the way of his horse's deadly hooves.

He rode up next to the train and trotted his horse up to Anne.

"Anne," he begged, "You have to get off this train!"

Anne shook her head. "I can't!" she said sorrowfully. Gil gave her a disdainful look and realized he was getting left behind as the train moved faster.

"Come here," she said, reaching through the train's window as far as she could and putting her hands on Gil's face. The two kissed for as long as the accelerating train would allow, and then Anne drew back into her seat.

"Goodbye!" She called back to her lover, saddened to the point of tears. Gil spurred his horse as fast as it would go. He kept perfect pace with the train, even as it sped up.

"What are you doing?" Anne demanded.

"I'm not letting you go that easily!" Gil said determinedly.

His horse panted as he drove it harder. "You can jump out! I'll catch you!" he suggested loudly. Anne shouted back at him.

"No! It won't work! You're making a fool of yourself!"

Gil continued to race his horse, but gasped when he saw that the track he was racing along gave way to a bridge. He snapped the reins back on his horse, stopping it inches before it and him both tumbled off the drop off. The train sped away into the distance, rattling the tracks on the bridge as it went.

"Write me!" Gil desperately called to Anne, who was fading from view.

oooooOOOOOooooooo

All the drovers stood around the grave, their hats off and their expressions somber.

"…May his soul and all the souls of the departed, rest in peace," the preacher concluded. "Amen," the drovers said in unison.

Pete snorted. "That's one hell of an amen."

Mr. Favor looked at the preacher and sighed. "Thanks for comin' out all this way. I don't know…it just seems proper. Sending him off like this…"

The preacher nodded. "I understand," he said kindly, "'Twas no trouble at all."

With that, the preacher mounted his steed and cantered off into the distance. Rowdy and Quince looked a each other and then at their boss.

"Is that it?" Rowdy asked.

"Yup," Mr. Favor replied bluntly.

Pete grunted and grimaced while grabbing his chest. "Yeah'd it'd better be," he grumbled, "I ain't gonna stand out in the sun all day."

Quince twisted his lip. "Crabby thang, ain't he?" he said, gesturing his thumb towards the scout, who was heading down the hill towards the supply wagon.

All the drovers trudged down the hill towards the herd, ready to get moving. When the men finished cleaning up camp, they headed for their horses.

As Rowdy cinched the saddle up on his horse, he glanced over at Mr. Favor. With a sigh, he squinted against the sun and looked at the silhouette of Kenny's grave up on the hill.

"It just don't feel right," he murmured.

"What's that?" the Boss questioned, not looking up from saddling his horse.

"Leavin' poor Ryder up there," Rowdy replied.

"His name's Favor," the Boss muttered. Rowdy smiled a bit and tipped his hat up.

"Well now," he started, "When ya say it like that, it don't seem so bad."

Mr. Favor cocked an eyebrow at his ramrod. "Pardon?"

"Well, I mean he died yer son, not some stranger with an unmarked grave. You got to know 'im 'fore he died and I think that's what makes leaving this place less bitter."

Mr. Favor frowned, mulling over the ramrod's words.

"Yeah…" he trailed off, "It sure seems that way."

"And hey," Rowdy offered, "If you don't believe the Lord walks in mysterious ways, maybe ya believe in luck. If it ain't the Almighty that let you know your son before losing him, I'd say you got lucky."

"Lucky?" Mr. Favor echoed.

"Sure," Rowdy said, cracking a crooked grin, "You know I ain't the faithful type, and when someth'n real good or strange happens and I need to chalk it up to someth'n, so I figure you gotta ask yourself one question."

"Oh?" Mr. Favor asked mildly, "What's that?"

"'Do I feel lucky?' Well do ya, Mr. Favor?" Rowdy said seriously. Mr. Favor nodded.

"I do. Not only do I feel lucky," he noted, "But I feel blessed."

Rowdy smiled and chuckled.

"And you know what else?" the Boss said.

"What?"

"You just made my day," Mr. Favor replied. Rowdy figured there was more to what the Boss said than he was letting on, but he let it slide.

Mounting his horse, Mr. Favor slapped his Stetson on his head and sat up straight in the saddle. He took in a deep breath and looked at his herd and the surrounding land, and for once…he felt refreshed. Like every one of man's sins had been washed away and this…this in front of him was shining gold. He snorted in amusement with his own thoughts and decided to get on with his job as trail boss.

"Head 'em up," he shouted to his drovers, "Move 'em out!"

Soon the herd was moving across the prairie land, moving slowly but surely on a seemingly endless trail. Who knew who or what the drovers would encounter next? What surprises lay in wait for them on the trail ahead? Well, one thing was for sure, if the trail changed, beeves would still be beeves, and the drovers would still be drovers. The only thing that would change…is that there would now be twenty-four drovers and a cross on a hill in the distance.

The End

(Well, I bet you're wondering what I'm going to do next, but to be honest, I didn't think I'd make it this far! I Hope you liked!)


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